


Memories

by impalaloompa



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, mentions of past rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 12:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6424324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalaloompa/pseuds/impalaloompa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...I saw someone as I was leaving The Bugle. Someone I haven’t thought about for a long time...I knew it was him. It was him and I… His name was Skip Westcott and he… When-when I was a child he…he...”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

Peter was perched on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees, chin resting in his hands.  
He was staring blankly at a smudge on the TV screen illuminated oh-so-perfectly by the direct sunlight spilling through the window. He wasn’t sure how it had gotten there. He was pretty sure that neither he nor Wade had touched the screen, but there it was. A finger smear outlined neatly against the dust and black. One of life’s many fuck you’s.  
Today had been a day for life’s fuck you’s and Peter wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and cry. He had told himself he wouldn’t. He had told himself that he was stronger than that. But the more he tried not to dwell on the morning's events, the harder it was to choke back the tears.  
Maybe he had touched the TV screen. Maybe the mark was his fault.   
His shoulders shuddered with his sigh and he leaned back into the couch, drawing his knees to his chest and cradling them with his arms. He let his forehead rest on his knees and bit his bottom lip to stop the sobs welling up in his chest.  
He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that but the next thing he knew there was a fumbling at the door and then Wade bustled in with as much stealth as a bull in a china shop.  
“Hey Baby Boy,” Wade rumbled affectionately, “I got burritos.”  
Peter didn’t say anything. He tried to burry his face deeper into his knees.  
“Peter?” He heard Wade place something on the kitchen counter then approach and he forced himself to look at his boyfriend, smile struggling to pull at his lips.  
Wade’s masked face was etched with concern as he crouched down in front of Peter and tilted his head slightly.  
“How was your day?” Peter husked, trying to keep his mind from wandering again.  
“Ah, you know. Stopping baddies, saving the day. Hero stuff,” Wade’s small smile faltered as he caught Peter’s gaze.  
“No. Please. Wade. Really. How was your day?” Peter hated how desperate he sounded.  
Wade narrowed his eyes slightly before saying, “Me and a few of your SHIELD buddies took out an armoured terrorist gang planning to blow up a bunch of hospitals. It was rough but we managed with minimal casualties and-okay what’s wrong?”   
“N-nothing, everything’s fine,” Peter lied, voice breaking.  
“Peter,” Wade’s tone wasn’t harsh or firm, it was gentle, almost a plea. He stood up and sat beside Peter on the couch, looping his arm around Peter’s shoulders. Peter leaned into his warmth, trying to hold onto the safety and promise of Wade’s embrace.  
Wade took his mask off and tossed it onto the coffee table. He rubbed his forehead absently then laid his gloved hand on top of Peter’s.  
“You can talk to me,” Wade hummed softly, “about anything. You know that right? I’m here for you Peter.”  
“I know,” Peter whimpered. He curled his fingers into Wade’s and the arm around his shoulder squeezed slightly.  
He pressed his chest tighter to his knees, willing the words to come. He wanted to tell Wade. He just didn’t know if he could.  
Wade sat quietly, waiting patiently for Peter until he was ready to talk.  
“Today was… Just normal stuff at The Bugle. Delivering pictures, arguing with Jameson about pay. Just normal stuff,” Peter tried to draw courage from Wade’s reassuring presence, “But then I… I saw someone as I was leaving The Bugle. Someone I haven’t thought about for a long time.”  
His voice broke again and Wade gave his hand a gentle squeeze.  
“He didn’t recognise me. I was much younger when we last… crossed paths” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “He was always older than me but, his hair was greying and there were… were wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes and… I knew it was him. It was him and I… His name was Skip Westcott and he… When-when I was a child he…he...”  
Tears leaked from Peter’s eyes, rolling down his cheeks and soaking into Wade’s red and black suit. Peter sniffed, stifling another sob.   
Peter didn’t have to see Wade’s face to know that his expression was hard. He could feel it in the way the muscles had tensed in his shoulders and chest. He held onto Wade’s hand tightly.  
“He showed me pictures from a magazine and… he wanted to do...did do...some of that stuff with me. I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do,” he sucked in each breath with a shudder.   
The memory of Skips fingers ghosting over his skin, the unpleasant firmness of his grasp, his eager hands pawing at places Peter squirmed to think about. His thick voice, Peter’s own pleading mewls. He had just wanted it to stop.   
The pain throbbing in his heart, twisting his gut made him feel sick, dirty. But Wade still held onto him, trying to convey his love and comfort through the pressure of his finger tips.  
“I told Aunt May and Uncle Ben and he was locked away but...he was supposed to be my friend. And seeing him today just…” he pulled away from Wade so that he could look at his boyfriend’s face.  
He almost recoiled at the soft love, the pain, the heartache, the sorrow and the pride that flashed in Wade’s dark brown eyes. Wade managed to cup his cheek and pulled him closer before Peter could throw himself from the couch.  
“Listen to me Peter,” Wade blinked at him, “Thank you for telling me. I know it doesn’t seem like it yet, but things will feel better now that you’ve told someone,” he brushed Peter’s cheek gently with his thumb, causing more tears to escape from Peter’s eyes, “What he did to you? It wasn’t your fault.”  
“But if I had just said something, if I had said no or tried to get away-”  
“Peter,” Wade’s furrowed brow and sharp tone made Peter jump slightly, “The only person at fault here is this Skip person. Look at me.”  
Peter forced himself to gaze into Wade’s warm eyes.  
“My uh… ‘experience’ was different to yours so I can’t say I completely understand what you’re going through but, I do... understand, if you get what I’m saying,” Wade’s awkward attempt at comforting him had a weak smile twitching his lips.  
Peter knew that Wade was referring to Typhoid Mary. Wade had opened up to him so many times over the seven months they had been dating. Peter was almost ashamed at himself for only admitting all of this now.  
“Thank you Wade… for listening. For being here,” he leaned forwards and pressed his forehead to Wade’s, trying desperately to push away the unwanted memories.   
Wade hummed softly, vibrating in his chest. His hand crept from Peter’s cheek to the back of his neck and he weaved his fingers through Peter’s hair.  
Peter wrapped his arms around Wade’s shoulders and buried his face in the crook of Wade’s neck. He nuzzled into the warmth, the pain in his chest easing slightly.  
He felt Wade’s strong arms snake round his waist and he hugged his boyfriend tighter.   
Wade was right. It wasn’t his fault, but it didn’t make what had happened go away. He had been able to put it behind him, just a memory, but now it was out in the open again.  
He curled his fingers into Wade’s spandex and sobbed quietly into his shoulder. Wade’s hushed words and soothing caresses calmed him, made him feel safe and loved.  
Love for Wade ached in Peter’s heart as he clutched at his boyfriend desperately. Wade squeezed him gently before shifting, forcing Peter to lean back.  
Wade wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb, soft smile lighting up his scarred face.  
Peter couldn’t help but smile back. Wade’s gentleness and kindness never ceased to baffle him. How could a man who had suffered so much, who had lost everything, have so much love, have so much to give?   
“Thank you,” he whispered, eyes catching Wade’s.  
Wade nodded but there was something lingering in the back of his eyes and Peter knew that if Wade ever crossed paths with Skip, there would be one less Westcott in the world.  
Feeling slightly better, Peter gave Wade a nudge.  
“Did you say that you brought home burritos?”  
Wade’s smile twitched into a grin and he jumped up from the couch to fetch the mexican food from the counter.  
Peter leaned back into the couch as he listened to Wade clink about in the fridge for beer, god did he need a beer, and he couldn’t help but picture a meeting between Wade and Skip.  
But even as he watched the rather violent scene unfolding in his head, he couldn’t shake the cold feeling pitting his stomach, and he knew that no matter how hard Wade tried, it would still be there for some time.


End file.
